Expert Testimony 2: Conversation
by Mallaithe
Summary: Methos is hitchhiking back to Seacouver after leaving the B.A.U in Texas. He stumbles across a surprising face in a diner and finds he seems to have a few things on his mind. Rated M for a graphic sexual abuse scene.
1. Chapter 1

**A/N this is not a new version of this story or an expansion of it. Rather, I've broken the story up for ease of reading and isolated two graphic sexual scenes. Enjoy :)**

**_Six Months Later_**

Methos was ravenous and exhausted. His clothing stank to heaven and he actually had a beard, it itched. Cars roared by spraying mud and road gunge. He sighed and adjusted his pack. It was nearly empty. He hoped a bored trucker would stop or he'd hit a diner soon. He was tired of walking, tired of roaming.

Another car raced by and he tucked his shoulder to take the spray. He sighed. For a while he'd been traveling with a girl named Rocky, she said she was twenty-three but was maybe eighteen. She'd been good company but she was hyper paranoid and certain he'd leave her. So he did. He was kind enough telling her he had to be on his own and not leaving in the night. He hadn't picked up any companions since Rocky.

He'd been hitchhiking and living on the road for months. Ever since leaving Wichita Falls. It was coming up on Spring now. Which meant wet weather everywhere; he was ambling up toward Seacouver. He had a friend and a clean warm bed waiting for him. He'd made it nearly the whole way there months ago but something about being on the road, the anonymity of it appealed to him. So he'd called Joe, warned him he was taking the scenic route and kept his feet on the road.

"Bad idea." He muttered. Headlights warned him of an oncoming vehicle. He pulled the collar of his jacket close and put his thumb out. He got more mud.

Two hours later he stumbled into the parking lot of a 24 hour diner. He almost cried in joy. Visions of steak, hot coffee, pie, French fries and milkshakes danced in his head. He walked in and the bovine gum popping waitress glared at him. He reached into his pocket to show her he had hard cash.

"I've got a seat at my table." Someone said. Methos turned to the voice and couldn't believe his eyes. It was Jason Gideon. Methos didn't for a moment think that Gideon had somehow recognized him. Although if anyone could through his shaggy hair, beard, filth and ruined clothing it was probably Gideon. No, Gideon was the sort of guy who was decent in the most basic sense. He wouldn't let a distressed stranger go back out in to that rain and cold without a hot meal. Methos smiled. He pulled the money out of his pocket and showed it to the waitress anyway. She grunted and he walked over to Gideon's table.

The profiler was sitting with a mug of coffee and an open newspaper. He folded it as Methos approached and set it aside. He looked up and met Methos' eyes.

"Fancy meeting you here." Methos said with a smile.

Gideon looked stunned for a moment and then, to Methos' surprise, he smiled. The two hadn't parted on the best of terms. Several years ago Gideon had inadvertently gotten Methos arrested as a suspect in a series of gruesome murders in Seattle. Methos had been forced to reveal his immortality to Gideon and the B.A.U. team to stay out of prison and earn enough grace to stop the rogue immortal responsible for the slayings. Gideon had left the B.A.U. for his own reasons before Methos had been drawn back to the B.A.U. by another rogue. So it was that Gideon's warm smile was a surprise. At one point during the affair Methos had been convinced Gideon was going to assault him.

"Have a seat."

Methos obliged. The waitress approached.

"Hot black coffee, steak all the fixings." Methos said still staring at Gideon.

"Back in a jiff hon." The waitress sighed and shuffled off.

"She's been on shift for nine hours." Gideon explained said and sipped his coffe. Methos slipped off his bag and sodden jacket.

"I apologize for the stench." Methos sighed delighted to be free of the weight of the bag and garment.

"How long have you been traveling?" Gideon asked studying Methos speculatively.

"Uuuuh I dunno, what day is it?" Gideon gestured to the paper. Methos leaned forward, dripping water onto it and read the date.

"Huh wow, six months or so."

"Any destination in mind?"

"Seacouver, I have a friend there."

"Macleod? I thought he took off."

"Macleod's a man of habit. He won't give up his name why should he give up his city? No, after our little adventure Hotchner smoothed things. Macleod made himself scarce for a year or so and then came back."

Gideon sipped more coffee.

"So who will you be seeing in Seacouver?"

"It's a big city, I've got other friends. Macleod… he's the best friend you could ask for but his world view is a little too black and white sometimes. What about you? Any ultimate destination?"

Gideon smiled his small amused smile. "I'll let you know if I find it."

Methos nodded, he seemed sad. The waitress arrived with coffee for Methos. She moved to top up Gideon's but he held up a restraining hand.

Methos gratefully cradled the warm dark brew for a few seconds before sipping it.

"Have you been here for her whole shift?" Methos asked setting the coffee down.

"Hmm? No when I came in I asked her how long she'd been on shift."

"Ah, lemme guess, show's you're interested in her as a person, so you get better service?"

Gideon smiled quietly for a moment and sighed.

"Not everything is a calculated act Ben."

"Maybe not consciously. Maybe you were just being friendly and you were genuinely curious, but I bet she gave you better service." Methos said downing his coffee. It scalded his throat but he was impatient for the warmth, by the time he finished it his throat and mouth were healing.

"Why are you on the road?" Gideon asked, not arguing.

"Why are you?" Methos countered suddenly resentful.

Gideon cocked his head at him. Methos sighed.

"I… it's a long story."

"Six months on the road? Taking the scenic route to Seacouver?"

"Something like that. I dunno, I was almost there about four months ago, took my time getting there. It's not like the weather was great. It was winter, weather was worse than this I just…I dunno, I had to not be me for a while I guess."

"I know the feeling." Gideon said with a warm smile.

The waitress arrived with Methos' steak. He attacked it with gusto. Gideon watched in silence until Methos slowed his ravenous pace. Finally Methos pushed the empty plate away with a sigh.

"You're not pissed off at me anymore?" Methos asked.

Gideon considered the question.

"No I guess I'm not."

"Why were you?"

He was quiet for a long moment. "I think, in a way, I felt betrayed."

Methos laughed. "Seriously? Jesus Gideon, you of all people should have known there was something off about me."

"I did I just never thought killing people was part of it." Gideon sighed.

Methos studied his empty mug for a few seconds. He sat up and wiped at his mouth with a napkin.

"I'm sorry I hurt you Jason." He said finally.

The waitress arrived again. Methos ordered an entire pie and more coffee Gideon declined.

"How old are you?" Gideon asked.

Methos thought about his answer. The truth would be awkward, as it always was, but he felt reluctant to lie to Jason again.

"Why does it matter?"

"It does." Gideon said with a smile. He was right, it did. Methos scrubbed his face and shook his head. He looked around to insure the waitress was out of ear shot then leaned forward.

"I predate the Roman Empire." He said finally. Gideon cocked his head.

"Three thousand?" He asked studying Methos' face. Methos tried to keep his features still. He was good at it. In the early days of his relationship with Kronos any kind of reaction good or bad would earn a beating.

"Four thousand?" Gideon guessed again. Methos studied Gideon's soft warm brown eyes. Those eyes had seen horrors that would stymy most modern immortals. Certainly more gruesome sites than the royal Macleod had witnessed.

"Five thousand?" Gideon guessed again. Methos found he didn't want to lie to Gideon, didn't want to hide or waver on the truth.

"Ish." Methos said softly, his eyes locked on Gideon's. The surprise in Gideon's eyes wasn't unusual, the pity was.

Methos pulled back. He felt burned, frightened by the pity in Gideon's eyes. He turned away looked at his coffee mug. A strange sense of shame and exposure swept over him. Gideon's hand was on his suddenly. Methos tensed but Gideon gripped him firmly.

Inevitably the bad tempered waitress arrived with the pie. She stared at the two of them for a moment, popped her gum and left.

Methos laughed and relaxed. Gideon released him.

"You okay now?" Gideon asked carefully.

"Yeah, yeah I am. I'm … I'm sorry. I don't know what that was – I've never." He stopped babbling. Gideon stared at him for a moment and then cut himself a slice of pie.

Methos stared out the window at the rain over Gideon's shoulder. The exhaustion of the day crashed down on him. He wanted to lay his head on the table and sleep for a thousand years.

"Do you have a place to stay?" Gideon asked. Methos drew his eyes back to Gideon and the pie. It was some kind of berry. Methos picked up a fork and started to eat.

"Hadn't thought about it." He said after a few bites.

"C'm'on I've got a room. You need a shower for starters."

"Gideon, no I…thank you but I'll be –"

"Don't insult me. Come on." Gideon rose and offered Methos his hand. Methos stared at it. Taking that hand would be more than just help to his feet. It meant at least one evening in close proximity to the man with X-ray eyes. Still, there were worse things, he took it.

Gideon threw several bills on the table and picked up Methos' jacket and bag. He took Methos' arm and led him out into the rain. The rain stirred him from his stupor. He looked at Gideon's hand on his arm and shook it loose. Gideon glanced at him and – as though they were in a cheesy movie – lightning flickered through the sky lighting Gideon's face. Methos read concern, genuine and honest on Gideon's face. He felt tears sting his eyes and he didn't know why. He let Gideon guide him into his car.

Methos rested his forehead against the cool glass of the window. He felt Gideon's hand on the back of his neck. He sighed and felt tears sting his eyes again. What was wrong with him?

They arrived at Gideon's motel. Gideon helped him out and got him into the room. It was a double, two twins beds against one wall, a short walkway to an open closet and a door – presumably the bathroom, opposite the beds stood a dresser with an old chunky CRT television adorning the top. Methos stood dripping in the doorway. Gideon put Methos meager things on a chair and stood in front of him.

"Come on, you're soaked through." Gideon said gently and guided him to the bathroom. He closed the door and left Methos alone.

Methos stared at himself in the mirror. He didn't recognize the hollow eyed stranger with a ragged brown beard. He grunted and dug around for scissors. He clipped his hair and beard short then lathered his chin and carefully shaved it bare. A ring of clean skin surrounded his mouth; the area around his eyes was filthy. He still didn't recognize himself.

He ran a hand through his hair and stepped into the shower. The heat felt wonderful. He scrubbed head to toe three times and then just let it soak in. He let out a shuddering sigh and didn't move until the water started to cool.

Methos stepped out dripping and stared at the mirror. He almost recognized his reflection. He trimmed a few tufts of uneven hair and dried himself. He wrapped a towel around his waist and opened the door. Gideon was watching TV, or at least he had the TV on. Methos suspected it was just something to fill the silence. Gideon gestured at a pair of loose shorts and a sweatshirt sitting on the bed nearest the exit door. Methos dressed and sat on the bed for a moment watching Gideon.

Methos woke to the sound of birds. He was lying on his back staring at a fly specked ceiling, bright sunlight streamed through thin curtains. He blinked and sat up. He didn't remember falling asleep. Gideon was gone. He started to get up but felt a wave of nauseating exhaustion roll over him.

The doorknob rattled and the door opened. Gideon backed in with an armful of Styrofoam boxes. He smiled at Methos and set the boxes down, near the TV. Methos shrank away from Gideon. He didn't know why.

"Good morning, hungry?" Gideon's tone was even, calm, low almost what a parent would use for an ill child but not quite so obvious. Gideon lifted the lid on one of the containers revealing steaming pancakes and sausage. Methos' stomach rumbled.

"Why don't you grab another shower, wake up a little and have some chow?" He suggested and handed Methos the container along with a fork and a little cup of syrup. Methos ignored most of the suggestion and started eating still watching Gideon.

"I can't really say what happened last night Ben. If you need to talk I'm here."

Methos looked away from Gideon and thought about that. Gideon bore an extremely vague resemblance to Kronos. Mostly in build and coloring, the men moved differently, Gideon couldn't be more opposite to Kronos in temperament. So why was he freaking out?

"Kronos." He said and his throat closed. He closed his eyes. There he'd

"Kronos." Gideon said almost tasting the word. Methos opened his eyes and set his food aside.

"I…I have a pretty terrible past Jason. I don't … I don't know that I want you to know these things. I'll always know that you know them, they'll change everything between us." It was true one way or another if Jason Gideon knew his past their relationship would change forever. Granted he was never exactly happy when someone found out and thankfully that had happened pretty rarely until Cassandra showed up again.

"Ben, I'm not a clinical psychologist or a therapist, but I can and I will listen. I've spent my adult life trying to understand and anticipate the most twisted human beings we've ever encountered."

Methos sighed and ground his teeth. He sat up.

"Where are my clothes?" He asked hoarsely.

"Ben-"

"For fuck's sake Jason my name is not Ben. Which you should realize." Methos snapped.

Jason frowned. "What would you like me to call you?" He asked carefully.

"My name is Methos." He sighed and ran a hand over his face. He stabbed a fork into his pancakes and closed the carton. The room went quiet.

"Why did you pity me?" Methos asked suddenly, he was staring at his hands. "In the diner Gideon, why did you pity me? I saw it in your eyes-"

"That wasn't pity Methos, that was sympathy, sorrow. If you're five thousand years old then you've experienced the rise and fall of empires, countless wars, and almost certainly outlived every person you've cared about." Gideon said almost angry at Methos' suspicions.

Methos frowned then laughed and before he could stop it the laughter twisted into sobs and he was holding his face in his hands tears running between his fingers. With a force of will he halted the tears almost as soon as he realized he was crying and glared up at Gideon.

"Of all the people in my life, all the people I've told who I really am, none of them ever understood like that. None. So why you?" He asked hollowly, cheeks wet with tears, eyes red rimmed, jaw set and angry.

Gideon was silent. After a long moment Methos got up. He found his old clothes – freshly washed – and started to dress. Gideon rose and put a hand on Methos' shoulder, Methos whipped around and slugged Jason hard enough to daze him. The big man staggered backwards, catching his balance on the blocky outdated CRT TV.

Methos looked enraged and then horrified.

"Shit, Jason I –"

"It's okay. I just…." Jason said numbly, his words were garbled as he fingered his bruised jaw.

Methos walked into the bathroom and ran cold water over a washcloth. He came out and pressed it to Gideon's jaw.

"Move your fingers; I need to see if it's broken." Methos said curtly. Jason did, Methos probed the bone expertly and then grunted. He pressed the cold cloth to the bruised flesh.

"No breaks but the bone might be bruised." He said stepping back. Gideon studied him.

"Don't go Methos." Jason said as Methos resumed dressing in his old clothes. Methos paused and looked at Gideon, slow and hard. There was something in Gideon's voice, loneliness? No, not that, concern?

"I'm sorry Gideon, I promised my friend I'd be in Seacouver I… I have to go-"

"Let me take you." Gideon offered. He looked stern, unmovable, not to be dissuaded. Methos thought about arguing but he just didn't feel up to it. Being around Gideon was exacerbating his mood swings, maybe Gideon could help him get his head on straight.

"Yeah, okay." He sighed.

They finished breakfast and Gideon checked out while Methos went through his things, trying to figure out what if anything to keep. He grunted and tossed it all into the trash. He kept the empty bag and wore his old clothes

Gideon knocked lightly on the door, Methos twisted to look. The blinding sunlight outlined Gideon in a halo. Methos smirked, Gideon the savior.

"We're good to go, come on." Gideon said.

Methos followed him out knowing Gideon would note and analyze the way Methos ditched his things. He had kept one other thing in addition to his bag. The strange harness he'd been wearing for six months. He rolled his shoulder, a habitual gesture that tugged just enough on the harness to check its presence and security.

While Gideon drove Methos dozed, and eventually slept and dreamed.


	2. Graphic Scene

**A/N what follows is pretty graphic there are worse scenes but I'm isolating them as they're not absolutely necessary for plot purposes and can be more easily avoided by readers that prefer to avoid them when they're separated. Therefore I've decided to lop out the bits that could be triggers and give them their own chapters. Ideally I can do this without screwing with the flow too badly. Please let me know if you have input about it.**

He was in one of the many camps of the Horsemen. A central fire and a half dozen small tents. It wasn't a full camp, so they must have been on the move, maybe during the spring when goods were on the move and caravans were common.

He was sitting in front of the central fire. Alone. He heard soft steps on the sand and a warm familiar hand on his shoulder. The hand moved across his shoulder as Kronos sat next to him. The bigger man pulled Methos close.

"A good day's hunt brother!" He crowed. His eyes gleamed with the sheen of drunkenness. Methos felt a spike of cold fear in his gut. At times, when Kronos was like this, it was like all time fell away, like they were back at the beginning, when Kronos had 'molded' Methos. Methos wanted to be away from Kronos but the drunken immortal had a death grip on him.

"Did you see the way Silas split that stupid farmer? Next time they'll know to obey and fear the horsemen!"

Methos tried to laugh and play along but the fear crippled him.

"What's wrong brother? You seem out of sorts." Kronos crooned. He held Methos' face in his hands and looked into his eyes. Methos saw the faces of the dead, the people they'd killed that day and every day until he'd caged Kronos and run for his soul. Kronos kissed him, hard, all teeth and force and angry lust. Panic spiked in Methos' chest but he didn't break the embrace didn't dare. Instead he leaned into it, responded in the ways he knew Kronos liked best.

Kronos arched against him, Methos' could feel he was hard and ready. He ran his hands into Kronos tunic and up his chest. The fear and panic rattled at the cages of his mind. He swallowed and kissed Kronos. The other man sighed against him and suddenly Methos was on his stomach, Kronos leaning over him.


	3. Chapter 3

Kronos!" Methos gasped sitting up.

"You've been dreaming." Gideon said.

Methos sat up and stared around. They were on the road; trees thick along the roadside, beyond them he could see grasslands shading to green with the spring warmth. Methos slowly relaxed back into his seat.

"You didn't wake me?" Methos asked.

"Well, I thought about it, but I didn't want to get popped again, so I erred on the side of caution."

"Fair enough." Methos sighed and settled into his seat.

"Don't you want to know where we are?" Gideon asked.

Methos shook his head.

"You trust I'm gonna drive you all the way to Seacouver?"

Methos smiled."Jason, if you wanted to screw me over there are easier ways. Besides, I can kill you."

"That a threat?" Gideon asked carefully.

"No, it's more of a fact. Jason I don't want to hurt you, I don't want to hurt anyone." He didn't continue. Stared at the road surface whipping past.

"I'm done with that." He whispered.

"Tell me about Kronos." Gideon urged.

"He was a sadist. He…we… fuck." How do you explain what he was in a way that made sense? That reconciled what he was now with the mess he was then? How to define Kronos long past and Kronos fifteen years ago with Methos as Death and Methos the road warrior? Gideon waited patiently. Something familiar and classical played on the radio. Methos took a deep breath and tried again.

"He…I guess he taught me that pain was power, the only way to be safe was through power and pain. I took it to heart."

He'd been a frightened little nothing when Kronos had found him. Abused, used, battered, wearing chains with a tattoo on one cheek, an attempted escape three years before had earned the tattoo. Kronos found him in a market stall crammed together with a half dozen other wretches useless for anything but the fields or the galleys.

Kronos had felt Methos' quickening and bought the entire lot just to have him. Methos had been certain that Kronos was going to kill him. Why not? An easy enough kill after all, a naked shivering starved slave. The quickening wouldn't seem to be much but Methos was old by then, ripe. Later he would decide that Kronos had not known Methos' age or he never would have waited.

Instead Kronos had sold the other slaves to a galley owner for a song. He had taken Methos' chain in hand and used it to force the taller immortal to his feet.

"We don't cringe. What's your name?"

"Methos." He had to think for a moment to recall it. Kronos hadn't spoken to him again until they'd reached his home. It was large for the times, spacious. Strangely there didn't seem to be any other slaves resident.

He dragged Methos by his chain – secured to a collar around his throat - into the building and shoved him hard enough to make him stumble and fall. He was starving, ribs visible, limbs thin and spindly. He hit the ground hard skinning his palms and chin. Kronos sneered at him.

"You think you're worth the price I paid for you? You're not. Not yet. But I'll mold you. I'll guide you." He laughed gleefully. Methos was confused. He expected the abuse but this man seemed to be insane.

"Get up."

Methos tried to but he was weak and exhausted from the journey, so he was slow. He was on his knees when Kronos' fist laid him out on his back. He gasped in surprise and pain and Kronos' foot crashed into his bony ribs, he heard at least one snap, it was a dry harsh sound. He whimpered a mistake that only made Kronos laugh and hit him harder.

When he came back from death he was covered in his own blood. Kronos was standing over him. He hauled Methos to his feet and dragged him to a table with a chair.

"Sit." His voice was tired and calm. Methos hurried to obey. The table was loaded with food.

"You may choose two items." Kronos said evenly. His eyes glittered as he spoke. Methos reached out with a shaking hand and grabbed the two nearest items; a small loaf of bread and a portion of smoked meat.

Kronos picked up Methos' chain and used it to haul him away from the table. He walked quickly pulling hard on the chain forcing Methos to trot. He left him in a cubby and locked the door after him.

"Eat your rations, sleep." He said through the door. Methos obeyed. He was ravenous and exhausted. As he chewed he felt his way around the cubby. He crashed into an empty bucket and one that was full of water. He tasted it and was pleased to find it was clean. He drank and ate until his stomach hurt and then slept.

He woke to Kronos cursing and beating him with a wooden stave.

For three weeks he was beaten to death, fed and rested. He gained weight and got stronger.

"He sounds like a sexual sadist."

"Yeah. He was that and then some." Methos agreed. He felt tired.

"I… I think I need to sleep." He murmured and turned away from Gideon. He couldn't look at him right then. He hadn't told anyone about his introduction to Kronos, not in all the long years since.

"Methos, you had no choice, you were in chains, sick and malnourished. You were helpless and you knew it, felt it, he did everything in his power to insure that you stayed helpless and subservient even as your body healed."

Methos watched the road pass.

"I know Gideon." He closed his eyes. Knowing a thing in the mind didn't make it real in the heart or the soul.

He dozed but didn't dream. He woke when Gideon parked.

"Lunchtime." Gideon explained. Methos got out and stretched. He still felt worn out. He was surprised to be hungry. Still, when Gideon asked if he was hungry he declined. His stomach felt unsettled. He didn't want to get sick. Maybe it was remembering Kronos' introductory beatings and how amazing the food would taste afterwards. It was probably spoiled food he thought, but he wouldn't have cared then. He'd been clinging to life when Kronos bought him. The galley masters had laughed and called him shark bait before the bidding.

"Sure you don't want anything?" Gideon asked again. They were parked in front of a burger stand. Methos shrugged. Gideon bought two burgers and two shakes.

Methos didn't even try to eat the burger but he sipped on the shake. It was thick and rich and wonderfully chocolate. He set it aside and watched the road again.

"What happened when the beatings stopped?"

Kronos grew smarter, meaner. Methos learned and obeyed. A year after Kronos bought Methos he took away the collar and chains. The fugitive tattoo on his cheek had faded to an indiscernible smear of blue.

"You aren't property anymore Methos. You are a man." Kronos said this while circling Methos. Methos knew to stand very still and tall with his shoulders back and his chin up. If he didn't a beating would be the least of his punishments.

Kronos stopped in front of him and gripped his jaw. He pulled Methos' head down to eye level with Kronos forcing Methos to stoop slightly since Kronos was shorter.

"But this tattoo, it makes you ugly." Kronos snarled, his grip increased on Methos' jaw, pain lanced through Methos' face, he carefully didn't react. Showing pain or fear just egged his master on.

"We'll fix it." Kronos hissed and released his grip. Methos walked forward to a coal brazier. He used crude tongs to fish out a coal. He returned to Methos holding the coal, he raised it to Methos' eye level and blew on it, it glowed hotter and tiny sparks fluttered off it. Methos flinched instinctively.

Kronos grabbed the back of Methos' neck and pulled him down, forcing the coal against his cheek. Methos fought the pain as long as he could and then started to scream. Kronos laughed, Methos knees buckled and he fell, Kronos held him against the coal. Methos kept screaming his tears searing to steam as they struck the coal. As unconsciousness loomed up Methos slumped against Kronos, he could feel the other man was hard, his crotch damp. Nausea joined the pain and blissful oblivion followed.

He came to in Kronos' main room. He was lying on the floor. The chains were still gone. He sat up and touched his face. The flesh was whole, he'd healed. It never ceased to amaze him. He didn't worry about the tattoo. If it was still there Kronos would just burn him again.

His wrists were bound. He pulled on them but the binding was tight. He stopped struggling; if he broke them it would only anger his master. The room was plain, utilitarian, a shallow platform where Kronos' few items of clothing and bedding were kept, a few plain urns and jars storing food, wine, or maybe medicines.

Methos rolled onto his knees and got to his feet. He wanted to be standing when he met Kronos again; he wanted to be strong, not to cower.

"What did he do to you when he came back?"

Methos was tired of talking but he felt lighter for it. He wondered if Macleod had ever wondered these things, thought about how Methos could be such a monster, how he could also be a scholar at the same time or run from a fight or avoid taking a head for two hundred years, how he could be such a contradiction. He doubted it. Duncan was a good man, a true man, he was loyal unto death and probably beyond but he'd never been forced into any other kind of life. Never been tortured to madness and beyond, never been owned, or raped, starved to death or beaten just because. He had been adopted into privilege and raised to lead a clan; he was royal where Methos was a peasant cur.

"Methos?"

"Hmm? Sorry I was thinking about a friend."

"The one in Seacouver?"

"Macleod."

It went like that for months. Kronos would torture and kill Methos until he learned whatever lesson Kronos was trying to teach until Methos started to think again. Not just react but anticipate and plan. He never really rebelled, it was as though he knew in the end the only way to really please Kronos was to be his equal.

He was in the courtyard. Practicing with his sword as Kronos had ordered. Kronos had bought a slave, a prisoner of war from some far off tribe. The man was grizzled, scarred, and cunning, he fought like a rat. Kronos insisted he be armed with real blades while Methos had but dull wooden staves. Consequently Methos learned fast.

Kronos arrived on horseback. No saddle pad or cloth between him and the horse. He slid off the animal and led it into the courtyard. The slave left practicing with Methos and took the animal to be groomed and fed.

"Show me." Kronos ordered. He picked up a blade and faced Methos. Methos dutifully demonstrated what he'd learned. Only he added something he'd thought about. Every time he sparred with Kronos the scarred immortal favored his left leg. That was the same side where his scar was. Methos guessed he had a lingering injury, something that had occurred before his first death and never healed right.

So this time instead of just reacting to Kronos he took advantage of his patient observations and attacked. Hard. Kronos back pedaled and got angry, the anger made him sloppy. Methos took advantage of that too. He managed to knock Kronos on his ass and was pressing his advantage when Kronos angrily snarled and ordered him to halt.

He did reflexively, automatically. Judging from Kronos' mood he was in for it.

Kronos beat him to death in a blind rage. When he came to he was still in the courtyard. The collar was back, as were the chains. Methos didn't mind. They were familiar. He'd been a slave for decades. It was dark and cold so he slept.

When he woke again Kronos was standing in front of him. He was smiling. Not the familiar cruel speculative smile, the smile that said, what shall I do to you now?, but something new. He was pleased. Methos felt a deep sense of foreboding.

"You surprised me yesterday Methos." Kronos said. Methos just stared at him.

"I think you might be a bit of a prize after all. Y'know, to be honest, I was just going to use you as a bait. Lure in others like us, use you to distract them and then take their heads for myself. But you actually surprised me, and you knocked me down. That shows promise Methos. So you have a decision to make. I'll take your chains off this evening. You can continue as my servant and slave or you can aspire to something greater."

"Greater?" Methos asked. Kronos seemed pleased at the question. Methos didn't speak much, he'd learned early on that begging didn't work and anything else just drew attention to himself.

"You have until this evening." Kronos said and walked away.

Methos was given no food and no water. He didn't see the old scarred slave either. He thought about Kronos and about being Greater.

"Had he killed the other slave?" Gideon asked.

Methos didn't answer right away. He was thinking about that courtyard and the choice he made.

"Yeah. He beat him to death the night before." He said finally.

"Killing you wasn't enough to satisfy his rage, he knew you'd revive, he had to destroy something."

"I always wondered why he never killed me in those rages. Never just took my head and had done with it." Methos sighed.

Gideon didn't answer. Methos slurped his warm liquidy shake. It didn't do his stomach any good.

"Have you made your decision little Methos?" Kronos asked. Methos was shivering. He nodded. Kronos smiled and crouched in front of him.

"And?" He prompted.

"I choose greatness Kronos." He whispered. Kronos' eyes shone. He reached up and removed the collar, the chains sloughed to the ground like the shed skin of an ancient lizard. Kronos stood and offered Methos his hand. Methos took it in a warrior's clasp and Kronos lifted him to his feet.

"Then we are brothers." Kronos said fiercely. For the first time in a lifetime Methos felt something akin to excitement.

"From then on I was his creature." Methos sighed. His stomach roiled. Gideon slowed the car and pulled over just as Methos was reaching for the door. He threw it open and clawed at his seatbelt. He managed to get out and a few steps away before his stomach completed its rebellion. He vomited pancakes, milkshake and bile until his belly ached and his eyes stung.

Gideon quietly waited until the wretching died down. He walked to Methos' side and knelt next to him. He carefully put a comforting hand on Methos' shoulder.

"I've never told anyone these things." Methos whispered hoarsely.

"I know." Gideon murmured.

"I've changed some things, small things, words some things don't have a modern equivalent. It wasn't really a courtyard … but… no one ever asked before."

"I know Methos." His tone was gentle, a little sad but kind too.

"Why are you doing this?" Methos asked getting to his knees.

"Because I feel like I can do some good again. Come on, I'll tell you why I left the B.A.U."

Methos followed slowly. He felt terrible.

Gideon waited until they'd been on the road for some time.

"I lost faith."

Methos didn't respond.

"A dear friend of mine had been slaughtered by a killer because of me. I'd reached the end of my rope at the B.A.U., I couldn't look at a stranger on the street without wondering what kind of terrible thing they could do. I didn't trust anyone anymore and I hated myself."

"Why are you telling me this?"

"Because we're all damaged and we tend to forget that. No one is normal Methos, it doesn't exist. Some of us are truly ill, truly deranged, dangerous but most of us are just hurt, just bruised and scraped. We can be healed and put back on the shelf."

"You trying to put me back on a shelf?"

"Maybe." Gideon said with a smile.

"Why?"

"Because you're here."

"So I just happened to walk into that diner when you're having a change of heart?"

"Lucky you. What happened after he called you brother?"


	4. Last Graphic Scene

It didn't take Kronos long to cover their tracks. He burned the dead house slave and the duo set out on foot using the single horse as a pack animal. They traveled for days avoiding other travelers except to kill and rob solo travelers, finally when Kronos felt they were ready he gave Methos a blade and chose a target.

A small caravan. Three camels and a dozen individuals most looked armed but only half looked like they knew what they were doing.

"Now, tell me what you see." Kronos ordered.

"There are twelve people, two women, ten men, the men are armed but only six or so look confident."

"Good. Now, we need to kill those six before anything else. Don't worry if anyone runs, we're too isolated for it to really matter they can't run far enough to bring anyone in time to do anything. Stay close to me and kill quickly." Kronos ordered. Methos listened hard and then nodded.

Kronos led the charge and was slaughtered. Methos was terrified. If the caravan guards didn't kill him they'd take him prisoner and sell him or execute him. The favored method of execution was dismemberment. He didn't know if he'd survive that. Didn't want to find out.

So he fought, like a demon. Kronos revived at some point and sat watching Methos kill. Methos didn't stop with the guards. He was too afraid, he couldn't stop, couldn't risk being taken, and then the women suddenly had knives, they were screaming and charging him, he raised his sword and blood splashed his face. He was gasping and heaving as the second woman fell, he turned to face the next attacker but he was alone. The complaints of the camels and Kronos' laughter were the only sounds. He lowered his sword and wiped at the blood on his face.

Kronos ran down toward him he wrapped Methos in a hug.

"Wonderful! Look at them all! You're unstoppable!" Kronos kissed him; he tasted like sweat and metal. Methos' heart hammered against his ribs, a fresh burst of adrenaline driving it. Kronos pulled away and his laughter turned to a howl of triumph. Methos blinked and grinned. He was alive, and free.

They took the contents of the caravan and left the dead for the desert. Kronos rode the horse and Methos rode a camel. It was hard work, much different from a horse. He'd done it before but it had been a very long time. Kronos grew impatient and ordered Methos to lead the camels and ride behind Kronos on the horse. Methos tied the lead camel's reign to his wrist and climbed behind Kronos.

He fell asleep toward evening; he was worn out by the fighting. He woke when Kronos slipped off the horse.

"We need a camp." Kronos explained. Methos felt afraid. They hadn't been on the move for long.

"Kronos, I think we should keep moving. If that caravan was expected it's possible the bodies have been found, they could be after us, we didn't hide our tracks and the wind has been calm –"

"I said we need a camp." Kronos hissed. Methos slipped off the horse and got to work. When the tent was up Kronos crawled in ready to sleep.

"Kronos one of us should be on guard –"

"Get in here you fool, who would dare?" Kronos scoffed, still drunk on success. Methos swallowed his concerns and crawled into the tent.

Kronos pulled Methos close to his chest, it was cold and Kronos was warm. Methos was afraid but it was the good fear like the kiss after the battle. He'd never chosen to be with a man before, it had always been forced. He forced himself to relax; he turned his face to Kronos. He could see the glitter of his master's eyes by the starlight.

"You're shaking like a leaf." Kronos murmured. He ran a hand down the side of Methos face.

"I don't want to be afraid." Methos whispered. Kronos kissed him, swallowed his fear. Methos returned the force and pressure of Kronos' kiss, the embrace bruised their lips, clashing teeth scraped gums, drawing blood. Mouth full of the warm copper of their mingled blood Methos pulled away slightly, to his surprise Kronos let him.

"I want you." Kronos murmured. Methos was still shivering. Instead of answering he kissed Kronos again and pulled him close, thrust his hips against him, found that Kronos was hard and eager. He remembered that same hardness and the dampness at Kronos' crotch during the beatings. He felt a flutter of fear but choked it back.

Kronos was what he was. He would keep Methos safe, he belonged to Kronos. Kronos' hands were under his tunic, exploring his chest, pinching his nipples. The sharp discomfort of the pinch was followed by a wave of sensation, he sighed into Kronos' mouth and his hips bucked. Kronos groaned and rolled on top of Methos, pinning him. Methos panicked for a moment and then forced it back. Kronos kissed him again, a clash of teeth and lips.

"Please." Methos whispered. Kronos was on him, his weight pinning him, Kronos gripped his wrists, raised them over his head and pinned them. He reached down and loosened his pants freeing his cock. Methos could feel it, hard, hot and damp against his taught stomach in the dark. Kronos groaned as it slid over Methos' warm skin.

Methos felt another flutter of panic or fear and this time he let it come. He tugged against Kronos' grip. Kronos laughed softly.

"Good, fight me." He said huskily. His hand slipped down, gripping Methos through the thin cloth of Methos pants. The grip was just short of painful. Methos wasn't quite hard yet, Kronos sighed against Methos face and lowered his head to Methos' throat he bit, nibbled and sucked while still pinning Methos' hands. Methos writhed and Kronos gasped as the movement stroked his cock, still pinned between their warm bodies.

"Please." Methos said again, the word ended in a whimper. He felt Kronos' cock stiffen against his belly. Kronos released his arms and pulled away from Methos. Methos whimpered and reached for Kronos. Kronos slapped his hands away and suddenly Methos felt his pants pulled free and his cock was in Kronos' mouth. It wasn't the soft teasing suckling he'd experienced from others before in the dim before. It was a raw sucking gnawing. More pain than pleasure. He cried out and tried to pull away.

Kronos bit down firmly and Methos froze. He lay utterly still while Kronos hurt him, worrying, scraping, pulling, tearing. Finally Kronos seemed satisfied; he raised his head, lips shining in the starlight, shining with Methos' blood. Methos felt fear spike through his gut again. All thoughts of pleasure or protection fled. Kronos moved, pinning Methos with his weight again, his forearms braced on either side of Methos' head.

He could feel Kronos was harder than ever.

"I'm going to fuck you." Kronos hissed. He kissed Methos again hard. Methos focused on the previous pleasure fought to bring it back, the savage throbbing ache in his groin started to fade, his mouth was filled with the taste of his blood. Kronos continued kissing him, lifting his weight enough to grip Methos' healing cock in his fist. Methos whimpered. Kronos broke the kiss and hushed him. He began peppering Methos' throat and neck with hungry licks and bites. As he moved lower Methos tensed.

Kronos sighed happily at the fearful gesture. He reached Methos' chest and suckled his nipples, Methos' cock twitched and jumped as Kronos worked. The new tender skin, freshly healed seemed extra sensitive. Methos hissed as Kronos moved his attentions away from Methos' nipples and back to Methos' cock, this time he used his hands, caressing and rubbing until Methos' hips were thrusting at Kronos, his cock dripping. Kronos stopped then leaned over Methos and whispered in his ear.

"I'm going to fuck you now, have you ever been fucked?"

"Y-yes Kronos."

"Did you like it?"

"N-no I-I." He mumbled. He wanted to say that it had always been rape, always forced.

Kronos entered him then, with no preparation, blazes of pain raced along Methos' body to his spine and radiated out. He involuntarily arched his back and let out a pained cry. Kronos moaned and thrust hard and fast, the more Methos tried to bite back his pain, the more he tried to hide it, the harder Kronos thrust, deeper and faster. Methos' clenched his jaw, tears squeezed from his clenched eyelids. He let out a shuddering cry of pain and Kronos fucked him harder for it.

"Oh yes my pet." He crooned and thrust once more he shuddered as he came in Methos. He took a slow breath and kept thrusting, slower, smoother, riding the pleasure, milking it. He shuddered again and slumped over Methos' rigid agonized form. Kronos was panting, breathless, sated. After a few seconds he pulled out of Methos and lay beside him.

Kronos laughed hollowly and sat up on one elbow. He stared down at Methos' tear streaked face. Methos' jaw was trembling. Kronos kissed him slowly, gently. Methos tried to calm down and relax. Kronos reached down, gripping Methos' limp cock.

"You've been so good for me Methos." He murmured. Methos was exhausted, hurting, and afraid. Kronos kissed him again a little harder; he played with Methos' cock tugging at it, teasing the head with his thumb. Slowly it hardened and twitched. Methos hated his body for that. He didn't want to get hard and be lost in the pleasure just so Kronos could hurt him, soften him. Weaken him again.

Kronos lowered his head again. Methos tensed but this time Kronos sucked him, nibbled him, brought him to the edge.

Methos fists were buried in the ground blanket, his hips thrusting and jerking at every lap and nibble.

"Don't you dare cum." Kronos hissed raising his head. He took Methos' right hand in his and lowered it to his own cock.

"Stroke me." He ordered. Methos struggled to obey. He was lost in a fog of pleasure. Soon enough he found a rhythm. Kronos began to match Methos' rhythm thrusting against every stroke. The men let out simultaneous sighs.

"Please." Methos whispered.

Kronos leaned forward, pinning Methos fist and Kronos' cock between them he kissed Methos hard and pulled away. He lifted Methos' hand away from his own cock and pressed the head against Methos' battered body.

He lowered his head to Methos' cock bringing him to the edge again and then entered him, slowly, carefully. The cum helping his cock glide. Methos sighed and shuddered, his cock twitched.

"I don't always have to hurt you." Kronos murmured. He kissed Methos and slowly increased the speed and depth of his thrusts. Methos whimpered, this time in pleasure, he gripped Kronos' shoulders, fingers digging in. Kronos sighed and moved faster, harder.

Methos raised his hips to meet the thrusts his cock twitched again and he groaned.

"Don't cum, don't you dare you piece of shit." Kronos snarled. Methos whimpered in fear and Kronos groaned in pleasure he drove himself deeper yet, his balls slapping against Methos.

"Please." Methos begged.

"You cum when I say." Kronos growled and came, it was hot and hard and again he rode the pleasure with slow thrusts. Methos' cock was throbbing and twitching, Kronos could see a large vein along its length pulsing with Methos' heartbeat.

"Cum." He ordered. Methos whimpered. Kronos thrust into him one last time, deep and hard. Methos lost it. He gasped and shuddered as his cum spilled out Kronos collapsed onto Methos chest, smearing his belly with Methos' cum. Methos shuddered and trembled underneath Kronos' weight his sighs of pleasure fading into the night. Kronos rolled off Methos and pulled his prize closer.

"Mmm I've never fucked like that." Kronos sighed he rested his head on Methos' chest.

"I.."

"Shhh. Don't talk." Kronos murmured. He kissed Methos on the cheek and slipped into sleep.

Methos had never felt so alone.


	5. Chapter 5

Gideon didn't say anything this time. Methos hadn't intended to be so graphic, but as he spoke the scene came back to him. Whole and alive and he couldn't edit it, couldn't hide it. He knew now, after years of study in to the human mind that Kronos had broken him and abused him on so many levels that he wasn't responsible for anything he'd done those first few years. He was an extension, a tool, a reflection of Kronos, Kronos' creature entire. Still, living it again, even through memory tore open so many wounds, let out so much rot and pain.

He blinked and realized his face was wet with tears. He turned to look out the window. He wiped his eyes with the back of his hand and snuffled.

"He got off on your fear. He let you have pleasure secondary to his as a reward. It wasn't your fault, you didn't do anything wrong Methos."

He knew that too. But hearing it, from someone like Gideon, someone who really knew, it released something. More tears rolled silently down his cheeks.

"He made you kill and then he raped you and made you think you wanted it." Gideon said gently. Methos nodded tears blinding him.

"How long were you with him?"

"It was just us for about sixty years. Then we met Silas."

Kronos had learned to trust Methos' paranoia and tactical sensitivities the same night as the caravan attack. Of course it took a band of vengeance bent nomads slaughtering them in their sleep, taking the horse and camels before Kronos admitted Methos had had a point. They were studying a nomad camp. They were on high ground, a large sand dune outside the camp. Methos studied the layout for an hour or so before Kronos prompted him.

"Well?"

"We can't go in at night. They'll be on us far too quickly. We should wait until dawn."

"Dawn? They'll see us!"

"The last shift of guards will be restless and tired, the next shift and everyone else will be preoccupied and distracted. If you want to kill them all and take the entire caravan this is the best way." Methos said evenly. Kronos sighed like a child denied a favorite toy.

"Very well brother. We should save some women; it's been long since I've had a good woman to ride." Kronos chuckled. Methos grinned.

They faded back behind the sand dune and waited. Kronos shook Methos awake. Methos looked at the sky. The blue glow of oncoming sunrise was visible. He nodded at Kronos and together they climbed to the crest of the dune.

They split up and waited. Once everyone in the camp was awake and working Methos whistled and the two immortals charged. Halfway down the opposite face of the dune they felt another immortal. They both kept running. It had happened before but it didn't matter, they were committed to the plan. They ran through slashing, stabbing, dodging and killing. Methos saw him first.

He was truly a bear of a man. He roared in joy at Methos and charged him headlong Methos neatly avoided his first attack and whirled around catching his exposed rear and neatly hamstringing him. He left him to howl and thrash while the rest were killed or subdued. They kept two women alive.

Silas cursed and roared at them.

"He seems upset brother." Kronos mused. He was holding one of the women by her hair. Methos held the other, her arm twisted and on the point of breaking. She kept whimpering and crying. Silas kneeled in the sand still unable to rise.

"Could be useful brother." Methos suggested.

"Oh?"

"He's strong, big, and he loves to fight, don't you?" Methos asked. His woman was still making noise so he applied just a hair more pressure she shrieked and fell silent.

"Ahh much better, now, I can think." Methos laughed. Silas was studying them. He'd stopped howling and snarling.

"Well, I suppose we could try it, we can always kill him if he's too much trouble." Kronos sighed. Methos laughed in delight.

"What are you called?" He asked.

"I am Silas."

"Well Silas, what do you choose? Death? Or Greatness?"

"Greatness." Silas rumbled.

"Caspian came along a short time later. I never liked him, he was a cannibal."

Gideon was quiet again.

"There were four of you?"

"Yeah."

"How long were you with Kronos?"

"Thirteen hundred years. Roughly. Time was different then, we didn't pay as much attention. We weren't farmers we only cared about when the caravans were on the move or where the nearest wench was."

"How'd you get away?"

"I ran the first time, ran to the nearest city and tried to hide. Cities back then were nothing like they are now; it wasn't easy to hide anywhere. You were always a stranger, so he found me and dragged me back. He tortured me and beat me until we were both convinced I wouldn't do it again. Then opportunity intervened."

Methos hated Greece. All the piddly little Islands and rocky terrain. He sighed and hauled on the mule's lead again. He badly wanted to cut the stupid beast's throat and be done with it, but he wasn't going to carry Kronos' crap all the way to Thrace. He glared at the animal and swatted it in the ass. Instead of going forward it groaned a complaint and kicked back. Methos snarled a curse at it.

"Easy brother, he's just hungry and tired like us." Silas soothed.

"Yes well it will continue in that state until we get to our destination. WHICH THIS STUPID ANIMAL IS NOT DOING." Methos roared. Silas patted the mule and clucked at it, it started plodding forward.

"I will never understand how you do that." Methos sighed and followed Silas and the mule.

That evening they stumbled over an open well. Methos stared into it until Kronos drew his attention with a sneering insult.

"No books in there brother!" Kronos laughed. A spike of blind rage seethed in Methos' chest. He was going to be free of this mess.

"You know, if we sent Silas and Caspian ahead with the animals we could take some time to scout this area, see what might be out here for another day." Methos suggested. Kronos had been hinting he wanted Methos alone for a few days. Caspian and Silas couldn't be trusted near each other for too long, they were liable to literally kill each other out of spite. Kronos wanted to use Methos, his tastes had changed, he liked to be public he didn't like to do it with Silas and Caspian around because they might think they could defy Methos. But Kronos could only deny his urges for so long.

"That is an excellent idea. In the morning you two head for Thrace we'll hang back." Silas grunted acknowledgement and after a painful moment so did Caspian.

Methos felt a flutter in his chest. Would he really be free of Kronos?

"How did you do it?"

"I locked him in the well, carved a legend in a nearby stone about a creature in the well and how if you fed it your luck would improve. I'm sure he starved to death a few times before anyone read it."

"Did you see him again?"

"Yeah, yeah I did about twenty years ago."

"Obviously you survived."

"Yeah Macleod killed him and Caspian. I killed Silas." He sounded tired and sad as he said Silas' name.

"It bothers you that you killed Silas?"

"I liked him. I mean he loved combat the way most people love a spouse but…he wasn't all bad. He loved animals, and carving. He used to carve these tiny delicate wooden flutes. You couldn't imagine his big hands playing it let alone carving it. I… I kind of made him what he was. If I hadn't suggested it then Kronos would have just killed him and it would've been over and done with for him."

"You were with Kronos for over a thousand years before you left. You were killing, maiming, raping, and robbing that whole time?" Gideon asked carefully. Methos was watching the road flow by again.

"Not the whole time, Kronos would get bored, we'd take a break, stop raiding, hire out as mercenaries, whatever Kronos wanted".

Gideon was quiet.

"It took a long long time before I realized I was just reliving what had been done to me, every time I killed someone I was killing me, or killing the people who'd hurt me my whole life. I got sick of it. Kronos noticed, it was unavoidable. He was always watching me, evaluating, judging. He owned me, had for a thousand years. So I ran. I was away for a year. I learned to read, to think. For the first time I really thought hard about how we were living. What I had been doing, the terrible things that were on my head. "

"That sounds ridiculous doesn't it? I knew that I was killing people. With families and a right to live but somehow in all that I think I convinced myself that it was kill or be killed, it usually was. Strangers were suspects then. It didn't matter if you had best intentions. You could walk into a village with goods to trade and no weapons of your own but all it would take was a dead cow or a drunken insult and at best you'd be robbed and beaten. That's… it's not meant to be an excuse, it's an explanation."

"Immortals can't stay in one place for long. Now it's easier, people are healthier, live longer, age slower, and with plastic surgery an immortal can usually stay in one place for as long as twenty years but it's dangerous. Then, you were lucky to have five or ten. You'd get hurt publicly and have to fake an injury for the next several years or worse you'd get killed in an accident or murdered by a rival. I was once publicly murdered by a man who thought I was after his wife, when I came to he and the rest of the village drove me out as a demon, even though they all knew I'd been unjustly attacked. It didn't matter, I was an outsider and he had lived there his entire life. Even if it hadn't been painfully obvious that I wasn't normal just the fact that one of their own had decided I needed to go was enough. If you think small towns now are stifling you've no idea."

He was silent for a long time then.

"I hated them. I realized that too once I was away from Kronos. I hated their lives, their families, and their happiness. I hated that they could have spouses, children, grow old and die with people who loved them and were bound by blood around them. I hated that they had these communities, this comfort. I hated that they could hurt me, kill me and be happy anyway. It didn't matter that the people I killed had never raised a hand or voice to me, that their great great whatevers had never even known me. I was going to punish them and hurt them before they could hurt me."

"I met an immortal in the city. It was the first time one of us had simply given me his name and walked away. He didn't want to kill me and he didn't want to die. That was part of it. Part of what made me realize I was a monster. Because I did do all those things because I was afraid but I also…I enjoyed it." He admitted.

Gideon's knuckles were white on the steering wheel.

"Kronos came for me after a few months. I managed to keep ahead of him for a few weeks. But he found me."

Something hit him from behind. He saw stars and landed on his face, too stunned to put his arms out to brace his fall.

Hot breath on his sweating face, a voice in his ear.

"You didn't really think you could run forever did you?"

No actually, he really hadn't. But, he had hoped.

Kronos dragged him back, taking time along the way to teach him the error of his ways. Caspian and Silas had never asked where Methos had gone or why. Methos had wondered about that at first but Kronos kept him on such a short chain that after a while he didn't care.

He planned raids, fought, thought about Cassandra and the cities. He didn't talk much, never visited the slaves and ignored Kronos' attempts at seduction. He was a shadow. Kronos tired of him, moved onto the slaves, left his leavings for Caspian.

He caged Kronos some months later and never looked back.

"I changed, I know that doesn't mean anything really, but I did. Still I can't undo what was done."

Gideon was quiet.

"I've wondered what might happen if an unsub were left unchecked in the open for years. I guess I know now." Gideon said. Methos heard disgust in his voice.

He didn't blame him.

"You can pull over and let me out." Methos said.

"You were a victim Methos, as much as any of the people Kronos or the others killed."

"You're excusing it?" Methos asked incredulous.

"No, I can't do that, your victims, their families that's their purview, I'm explaining." Gideon said shortly. His voice was harsh and tight.

"Gideon, I did terrible things, evil things, but that was before the Roman Empire, that man? He's dead-" mostly, he thought, truthfully that part of him lingered and raised his head from time to time, "I am what I am. When Macleod met me, I hadn't taken a head in two hundred years. I run from most fights because I don't want to die and I…I have no right to take more lives. If I have to, if it means protecting others then I'll do it, happily but I –" he broke off. He was babbling and lying and frightened. Why? Why had explaining what he was to Gideon become so important? What was this really about? He'd never felt he had to justify himself to anyone before, not even Macleod. Mostly because he'd known that no words would ever make the Scot really see and part of him had wanted the judgment, expected and welcomed it.

"I am what I am Gideon, I don't ask anyone to understand or accept it, I know what I've done, I live with it." He said finally.

Gideon drove in silence until Methos slept. He didn't dream. When he woke the terrain looked familiar.

"Where are we?" He asked hoarsely.

"Northern Oregon." Gideon said and reached over to turn on the radio.

"Why are you taking me to Seacouver?"

"Because I said I would."

"You think of me as an unsub now." Methos said. It wasn't a question.

"Maybe I do Methos. You know, when I met you I thought you were fascinating. You were obviously brilliant, you had insights into human nature that no student at your level ever brought up before. It was as though you had an instinctive grasp. It makes sense now of course, with all your experience you're probably the best natural profiler possible."

Methos was quiet.

"You're right too, I did think there was something off about you. All the other students your age brought up their families, home towns, things that mattered to them from home. You would tell jokes, flirt, tease, drink, do everything but mention your home. If pressed you'd talk about cities in Europe, historical idiosyncrasies or your tiny apartment. I assumed you were an orphan or had left an abusive home life. Maybe had a falling out with your family."

"Hat trick." Methos muttered. Gideon frowned at him.

"Later, I thought it might be something darker than that. Do you remember Robbie Corrin?"

Methos thought about that name.

Corrin had been a fellow undergrad. He bragged about his money and family when Methos knew for a fact he was from a Midwestern suburb and was borrowing every penny he possibly could for school. Methos hadn't had the heart to actively dislike the boy. As someone who reinvented himself as easily as breathing he couldn't begrudge the kid that much.

"Yeah he was a braggart and a liar but he wasn't a bad kid."

"You don't remember the bar do you?"

Methos frowned. He had an eidetic memory but trauma, drugs, and alcohol could twist it.

"No, I guess I don't."

"I was meeting a friend there. You and some other students were playing darts and drinking. Robbie Corbinn challenged you to a game. It seemed to be going well you were about equal in points. Robbie ordered a round of drinks and you scored a bulls eye."


	6. Chapter 6

Methos was just drunk enough to be really enjoying himself. Corbinn ordered another round of drinks. Methos almost felt bad. A little judicious investigating on the school's network had revealed that if Corbinn were lucky he'd be debt free by fifty thanks to his loans. Still it was the kid's choice and his life to live.

Methos lined up his shot and grinned as it hit the bullseye. The girl he'd been flirting with all evening – Sara – cooed at him. Corbinn returned with the drinks and groaned at Methos' bullseye. Methos was chatting with Sarah when he realized most of the small group were oooohing in appreciation of something Corbinn had said. Methos frowned and turned to face Corbinn.

"I said –" Corbinn started to say again. Methos hadn't waited to hear the insult, hadn't waited to hear if it was really an insult. The crowd noise, the hostility, the alcohol, he was reacting on old instincts. The crowd was turning because of Corbinn, the boy had to be punished.

It took three people to pull Methos off the kid. Corbinn's face was a mask of blood and bruises. He was crying and saying something over and over again.

"Get him off me! Get him off me!"

Methos stared at Corbinn as the kid's rescuers kept their grip on him.

"I didn't remember that until now." Methos admitted.

"Corbinn was too afraid of you to press charges. The most disturbing thing was the next time I held a lecture you showed up with the same group. They completely accepted you. Somehow you managed to charm them into disregarding your outburst. That is extremely predacious behavior."

"You started keeping tabs on me?" It wasn't really a question.

"Yes. Not actively. I asked your professors about you, some of my T.A.s, other students I trusted. They all said the same, you were handsome, charming, extremely intelligent and generally mild mannered with occasional bursts of temper."

Methos considered that. He worked hard not to be too memorable. He knew he hadn't been terribly stable for the last ten years or so, maybe longer. Since Macleod had crashed into his life things had ratcheted up considerably. Still, had he been losing it that far back?

"Right before you graduated you were dating another student. Do you remember her?"

"Holly. Holly Darling." Methos said immediately. He'd really liked Holly, he teased her that with her name she should've been a forties pin up model. She was beautiful, almost his height, long curly black hair, almost blue it was so dark, green eyes and china skin. She looked like a porcelain doll. She also had a mouth like a sailor.

Methos had a good guess as to where this conversation was leading.

"Holly was attacked walking to her car from the main library; she was beaten, raped and sodomized." Gideon's tone was stern factual.

"I know, I found her." Methos said icily.

"Did you?"

Methos turned on him.

"You think I hurt her?" Methos snarled.

"Knowing your history it's unlikely but you admit you didn't remember nearly killing Corbinn. Are you sure you weren't her attacker?"

Methos' fists were clenched in fury.

"Yes I'm sure Gideon because I found the animal that attacked her. You said it yourself; I'm very, very good at profiling and hunting other people. So I hunted that animal. I found him, I made him confess. I took the confession to Holly. I gave it to her and I told her. If you listen to this and it's not enough I'll finish it." Methos hissed glaring at Gideon.

"Who was it?" Gideon asked calmly. Methos opened his mouth, froze and closed it. He noted a sign for a motel on the side of the road. Gideon flipped on his turn signal.

"Robbie Corbinn." He said hollowly. Gideon pulled into the motel and turned off the car. He faced Methos.

"Corbinn was an unstable narcissist. When you humiliated him in public you became the sole focus of all his energy. He failed out of school; he spent his time finding a way to hurt you. Holly Darling was just a means to an end. When he hit her and violated her it was you he was targeting. You were the one he wanted to hurt and humiliate but he couldn't go after you directly."

"It's my fault." Methos said hollowly.

"No, it's Corbinn's fault but you need to recognize the impact of your actions."

"How did you know it was Corbinn?" Methos asked.

"Holly came to me with the confession tape after you disappeared."

"I didn't mean for that to happen, I didn't want to leave Holly while she was still in the hospital, I had to. An immortal found me. Holly wasn't in any shape to come with me and even if she'd wanted to I wouldn't have let her. " Methos said thickly. He had cared for her more than he'd admitted to himself

"What happened to Corbinn?"

"I honestly don't know, I took the tape to the police, it was inadmissible in court but they focused the investigation on him. As far as I know it ended there."

"You had Garcia look?"

"No. I don't abuse Bureau resources, especially since I'm no longer an agent."

Methos pulled out his cell phone. He had no such compunctions.

"Mistress of knowledge queen of the 'net." Garcia answered.

"I need a favor."

"Who is this?"

"Ben."

"Whoa no way uh I'd love to help you out –"

"I'm trying to track down a violent rapist."

"Oooh honey p-"

"He beat, sodomized and raped someone I knew and I want to know where he is now Garcia, he might have done it again."

Long silence. Gideon didn't speak up.

"I need a name."

"Robbie Corbinn."

"I'll call you back."

"That wasn't fair." Gideon rumbled. He got out of the car.

"Are you going to judge everything I do?" Methos demanded.

"You leave broken and damaged people like confetti in your wake."

"Who doesn't?"

They stared at each other. Methos let out a shaky breath.

"Look, Jason I appreciate the ride and I'm sorry if I've snuffed out your newly renewed faith in humanity but … I can find my own way north. Thank you for everything." Methos said. He had money, fresh clothes and his head on a little straighter.

Gideon sighed.

"You are a pain in my butt. Look I said I'd drive you. Let me drive you. It would be nice to see that part of the country again."

"Why Jason? To what possible end? You alternate between hating me and finding me disgusting, you call me a victim and then you accuse me of manipulating Corbinn into assaulting Holly. Why? Why do you want to drive for another six hours with me?"

Jason just stared at him then walked toward the motel. Methos let out a frustrated growl and followed. He felt like he was missing something vital.

"One room please, double beds." Gideon said reaching for his wallet. Methos pulled out his cash and laid out a few bills. Gideon didn't argue.

The tired looking manager gave them each a key and muttered directions. Methos followed Gideon. His head hurt and he wanted to throttle Gideon for being so pig headed. Mostly he was exhausted. Gideon opened the door and flipped on the light. Methos followed. He stripped naked and slipped into the bed near the door. Gideon took the time to shower.


	7. Chapter 7

When he emerged Methos was asleep. Gideon studied him. He looked like an innocent youth when he slept. He was still too thin, and dark circles hung under his eyes. He sighed in his sleep and rolled onto his side facing Gideon.

Something about the immortal reminded Gideon of Spencer Reid. They shared a razor intellect although Methos – in spite of his decades of academia – lacked the hard science and math that Reid seemed to inhale. On the other hand Methos was far more socially skilled than Reid, but five thousand years would do that.

Reid wasn't a hardened killer but he'd never had to live in Methos' world, neither had Gideon. What right did he have to judge him? He was at war with himself. He knew Methos had come of age and lived in a world that Gideon would find abhorrent and obscenely violent. But the things Methos had been through and done. He was a gentle man by nature and he wanted to help heal Methos at the same time the cop in him wanted him locked away from people he could hurt. He thought of his son then, it was strange to him the sudden thought of the young man. Was that what this was? Was he feeling paternal toward Methos?

Jason shook himself out of the reverie and dressed for bed. Methos let out a snuffling cry and writhed as though he were fighting an invisible attacker. He was sound asleep. Gideon hurried over and started shaking the immortal trying to wake him.

Methos screamed, a blood curdling paint peeling shriek, he sat up – still asleep – and Gideon slapped him in the face. Methos' eyes snapped open and he launched himself at Gideon, full force. He knocked the bigger man backwards and off balance, Gideon backpedaled trying to get away from the crazed immortal. His shoulders hit the wall and Methos pinned him. He started to throttle Gideon still unaware.

"M-M-ethos" Gideon gasped. No effect, Gideon slugged the immortal in the stomach, Methos doubled over releasing Gideon. The profiler gasped and staggered away from Methos.

"What the fuck?" Methos gasped looking up at Gideon. He took in Gideon's frightened face and bruised neck and the fading ache in his gut.

"Are you alright? Did I hurt you?" Methos asked. He could feel his throat tightening, tears threatening, a wave of shame crashed over him. First he slugged Gideon, now he was trying to choke him out. What the hell?

"You were in the middle of a nightmare, I should've known better." Gideon gasped. An irate knock sounded at the door. Methos opened it. Forgetting he was completely naked.

The manager stared at him in shock for a few seconds.

Aside from being too thin Methos was a strikingly attractive man. The manager picked up his jaw.

"Uh, I got uh complaints, you uh keep the noise down now, uhm kay?" he babbled. Methos folded his arms and leaned against the door jamb.

"Yeah, sorry I have a condition. Dr. Gideon was trying to wake me from a nightmore. It won't happen again." He slammed the door.

A tentative knock. Metho snatched open the door.

"Condition?" The little manager asked nervously.

Methos opened his mouth. Gideon's hand on his shoulder silenced him. He opened the door wide. Gideon smiled at the manager.

"Hi can I talk to you?" Gideon asked. He pushed past Methos.

Gideon glanced at the manager's shirt, his name tag read Taylor.

"Mr. Taylor?"

"Uh Troy."

"Hi I'm Jason, my friend Ben here has PTSD, he has bad dreams and sometimes when he's woken up abruptly he's a little rough. That scream? He was dreaming, now he'll be fine for the rest of the evening I promise you."

"You Gideon?"

"Yes."

"Okay, 'cause I run a clean business here, I don't care what you do behind closed doors just don't bother anyone else."

"Right, okay fine get out of here." Gideon growled.

"PTSD?" Methos asked. He was lying on the bed still naked staring at the ceiling.

"Yeah well it's probably true."

Methos laughed and looked at Gideon.

"Come on get dressed or get under the covers, I don't need to see you naked."

Methos remained where he was. Gideon sighed and walked over to his bed.

"You never answered me."

"What?"

"In the car I asked why you're doing this when you act like you pity me and then you hate me. You didn't answer."

"Go to sleep."

"No goddamnit, look, are you fucking with me? Huh? Are you curious? Do you get off on picking through my shit heap? Why Gideon?"

"Because you remind me of my son, you remind me of Spencer, because you've been alone and in agony for dozens of my lifetimes and it's time that stopped." Gideon shouted.

Methos blinked. He was half sitting up already he stared hard at Gideon. Gideon stared back.

"Seriously?" He asked.

Gideon just looked at him. Methos lay down.

"Goodnight Jason." He said and rolled onto his side. He hadn't been alone; he'd had Alexa and others. He had Joe and even Macleod. Sure he'd been hurt but he got over it moved on. Didn't he?

Methos dreamed.

He saw himself screaming at Macleod, laughing maniacally as he told him he'd been Death on a horse and killed for pleasure. Watched Macleod storm off furious. Watched the disgust, despair and anger in himself as he hurled his coat into the front seat of his SUV and looked back at where Macleod had peeled out.

He sat up. The room was bathed in weak morning light filtered through cheap curtains. He leaned back on his forearms and shivered. It was cool in the room. Gideon appeared to be sound asleep. Methos lowered himself back down to the bedspread and let out a slow breath.

He was going to leave he decided. Gideon was a good man but he'd had enough of playing patient. He was close enough to Seacouver that he could easily catch a bus north and make his way just fine. He got up quietly and dressed in the clothing he'd worn the day before. He counted out forty dollars and left it on his pillow along with the room key. He slipped out the front door carefully closing it behind him.

He walked to the main road and kept walking until he spotted a bus stop. He studied the maps pasted to the inside of the covered stop and checked the time. He had a three hour wait for any bus heading north. He grunted and started walking.

If his dumbass was still out on the road when Gideon woke up it would defeat the purpose of sneaking out. Also, he would look like an asshole.

Gideon wok later than he'd intended. He wasn't too surprised to see Methos had fled. He decided he'd head to Seacouver anyway. He hadn't been to the city in years and he had a colleague in Seattle he wouldn't mind getting a meal or a coffee with.

Something was telling him he'd see Methos again, and not when he was a bent old man either. The man was troubled and their business was unfinished.


End file.
